Stealers, Keepers
by Foxxed
Summary: Kurt Hummel is a notorious robber who picks up his victims at local gay bars, then one night he picks up Blaine.
1. Chapter 1

There were two things Kurt Hummel liked most: sex and pretty things.

Which was a quite difficult thing to explain at Career Day back in High School. The obvious suggestion didn't bode well for him either – he couldn't see himself prostituting his way through college while still maintaining his luxurious lifestyle. Too many bells and whistles, clients and bosses – no, Kurt liked doing things his own way.

The first time it happened was actually an accident. The guy he picked up at some local college bar turned out to be a total selfish dude when it came to the sex part. Kurt compensated the lousy fuck by taking some Marc Jacobs boxer briefs (clean ones, of course). And after his first 'conquest' as he called it… well, he became a kleptosexmaniac.

It was the simplest routine: Flirt, fuck, fetch and flee.

And he was never caught because he kept it to little things – things they could lose easily like rings and if they _did_ realize they got robbed, the one-night-stand shame was enough for them to not take any measures.

He also only robbed once a month and rotated his favorite gay bars, and tonight it was that time again. Clad in his favorite, which also happened to be the tightest pair of jeans he owned, together with a loose shirt that showed more than enough skin to interest some willing victims.

His eyes flickered across the crowded bar, making sure none of the men there were a blast from the past and he ordered his usual drink at the bar.

"Feeling lucky?" the barman asked with a wink, rolling the drink from one side of the other.

"Don't I always?" He kept his look coy and arched his back a little too obvious not to look like a predator looking for some fun. With a sip of his drink, he turned around and see what the night had to offer. There were several men and women dancing in the small space between the couches against the wall and the bar. The grinding bodies made way to show the view of a young man sitting on the dark red couch and nursing a beer. His hair was slick black and his polo was definitely from an expensive label. He took another gulp of his beer, his Adam's apple bobbing sinfully and while he lowered the bottle again their eyes met. The thick eyebrows of the man twitched surprised, making Kurt's decision final: this was going to become his newest conquest.

Walking through the dancing crew without being touched was tricky, but somehow he managed without spilling even a drop of his drink. While walking he went through his check list – _expensive attire, check. _He smiled and the man smiled back. Interested, check.

"Hello," he said breathily.

"Hi." The man's voice was heavy and low, and made Kurt's belly stir with want.

"Never seen you here before," he continued smoothly.

"I got asked by friend to come here." The man's eyes were so earnest that it almost made Kurt feel guilty for stealing some precious goods from him. Almost. "Birthday party," he said.

Lazily Kurt looked around. "Where's the birthday boy or girl then?"

"Enjoying some birthday after stress in the bathroom." He sighed. "He's puking," he clarified at Kurt's questioning look. "It was either the surprise nacho dip or the last vodka, I guess we'll never know."

Kurt grinned lopsided – he liked this man, shame he could only see him once. Finally he took the liberty of sitting next to him, holding out his hand in introduction. "I'm Luke." He always used fake names in case the conquest was too sober and would remember it the next day.

"Blaine." Blaine's hand was firm and only a bit sweaty while they shook. Kurt leant in close, entwining their fingers like they had been holding hands since forever. There was a sharp intake of breath that gave Kurt the idea that getting Blaine was going to be a piece of cake.

—-

The flirting had been easy.

Blaine was loose and pliant against his chest within minutes, all while he babbled about everything and nothing. Usually Kurt never paid attention to it – what was the point of it? But somehow Blaine made everything sound interesting and they actually had a lot of things in common. What he loved the most however was how Blaine responded to his soft touches, the constant petting over his lower arm and the sudden kiss he pressed onto his sleep. Blaine would blush, mutter and stare at him with big sparkling eyes that were already filled with _want_.

An hour in Blaine's sick friend came back, arm in arm with a blond guy, and said 'Jeff' was going to take him home. He was also totally cool with Blaine staying, especially now he was in the lap of another guy. Flustered Blaine said goodbye, playfully batting at Kurt who had buried his face into the crook of Blaine's neck and dissolved into giggles. The playful batting turned into tickling, the tickling turned into caressing and the caressing turned into kissing.

Kurt tightened his grip around Blaine's waist and kissed him most expertly – promising, taking and controlling. He tasted like beer and sour patches, but most of all he tasted like more.

"I –" Blaine stumbled over the words he wanted to say because Kurt continued to nibble at his jaw. "Can we – elsewhere – if you want?"

_Oh baby_, Kurt thought, _you have no idea_.

"Yes, please." He placed his hand on the soft pudginess of Blaine's belly that he couldn't wait of laying his face against later that night. "But – _ugh_." With fake frustration he pulled back. "My roommate has some kind of girl's waxing night, so our entire house smells like hot wax and girls." Total lie – Kurt lived alone, just around the corner, but Blaine didn't have to know that.

"We can go to mine." Blaine latched his lips back onto Kurt's. "I mean, I obviously wasn't prepared for this, but if you're okay with a small breakfast then I'm good too."

Kurt smiled, kissing back and seeming please. Even though he already knew he wouldn't even make it until breakfast.

—-

As Kurt already thought, Blaine turned out to live in a very nice apartment building in Greenwich Village. The way wealth just steamed off of it made Kurt even harder. He let Blaine drag him inside, there was no doorman thank God, and made out with him in the elevator until it dinged at the ninth floor.

Blaine's apartment was spacious and gloriously filled with expensive crap.

He didn't even notice Blaine pulling his shirt out of his pants, mesmerized by the trinkets on several cabinets and he started to salivate at the thoughts of what there might be _inside_ the cabinets.

"Luke?" Blaine's voice cut through his porn-watching. "You still want this, right?"

"What?" Kurt snapped up. "Of course I do."

"Sorry, you seemed a bit distracted."

Quickly he silenced Blaine by claiming his lips. _Fuck first, fetch later_.

Clothes were scattered across the room while Blaine guided him backwards to the bedroom. Every revealed piece of skin needed to be touched, kissed or in some cases even bitten. This could become his best conquest to date, Kurt internally cheered – a good fuck and an excellent fetch later.

He fell completely naked onto the bed, spreading his legs to invite Blaine to lie between them, which he did without even questioning it. Kurt loved Blaine's lips; their curve and softness against his, but mostly he loved the desperation of them with every urging kiss.

From the corner of his eye he saw Blaine digging into his nightstand, retrieving a bottle of lube and a condom packet. Something else in the drawer caught Kurt's attention.

"Are – are those handcuffs?" he asked, both curious and baffled at the same time.

Blaine frowned in confusion for a second before letting his face fall against Kurt's chest, huffing out breathy chuckles. "Y-yeah, I mean yes. They were a gift, as a joke, on my first day of training. Got them from some friends."

Kurt wanted to ask more about what kind of training. It was just he had the unspoken rule of creating as much emotional distance between him and his conquests – that included personal talk like work and school.

"Maybe we can use them a different night," Blaine murmured against his clavicle in a seductive tone.

Different night? Another time? _No_, Kurt shook his head without Blaine noticing. Flirt, fuck, fetch, flee – that was the routine. What the hell was wrong with him?

Blaine trailed kisses down his torso, dipping his tongue into his belly button teasingly before grasping his cock firmly with his hand. Kurt's head shot backwards, arching into the touch and demanding more already. He felt Blaine chuckle against his hipbone and _God_, he knew _exactly_ what he was doing.

Kurt wasn't even allowed to finish a gasp when Blaine lowered his mouth onto his cock. He was doing something with his tongue that he couldn't describe, but it felt amazing. Moans escaped his lips and he trashed his naked body over the bed, encouraged by Blaine humming while bobbing languidly up.

Nothing even mattered anymore.

"_Fuck_, Blaine!" He reached beside him, finding the bottle of lube and throwing it at Blaine. With a thud it landed next to his hip. "Finger me, _fuck_!"

Blaine hummed approvingly, grabbing the bottle himself and slicking up his fingers without even letting go of Kurt's cock. With one strong hand keeping his legs spread. the other one sliding carefully into his hole and Blaine still sucking him like it was his job, Kurt felt completely blissed out.

He grabbed Blaine by his gelled locks, tugging them free and guiding him up and down at the speed he needed. The finger working him open turned into two and crooked inside of him, making Kurt gasp and moan at the same time. Blaine prepped him quick and sufficient, clearly done when he started to trail kisses back up his torso – ending at Kurt's mouth where he pecked another few heated kisses.

"You're so hot," he whispered against his skin, reaching for the condom. "And taste _so_ good." He pushed himself up, kneeling while sitting up and rolling the condom onto his cock. He was thick and curved, utterly perfect if you'd ask Kurt.

With one thrust he pushed inside Kurt, his body limping against Kurt's and hid his face in the crook of his neck. His breath was hot and panting.

Kurt's eyes rolled back and he let his hands wander over the endless skin that was stretched around Blaine's back, eventually settling on his ass and forcing him to move faster into him. Blaine chanted something and it wasn't until later that he realized he was saying 'Luke', which felt like a splash of cold water for a second. The way Blaine pulled out completely before thrusting in made him forget about that, and now Blaine started to jerk him off again, all thoughts about his mission or fake name were long gone.

He tensed underneath Blaine, biting his lip and pulled him up to kiss him. One final thrust made him come and Blaine stared at him in completely awe, setting up the pace faster to join him in his euphoria. With a shout and a cuss he came too.

Sweaty and tired they entwined their bodies in a hug and traced lazy afterglow kisses.

"You're staying for breakfast, right?" Blaine asked.

Kurt responded with a hum that neither he or Blaine could identify as affirming, but Blaine bought it. There was a bit of awkwardness where Blaine disposed of the condom and Kurt took the liberty of the tissues on the nightstand to clean himself. Soon enough Blaine was back in his arms, making Kurt panic because he couldn't escape this way. Luckily Blaine seemed to be all for being the little spoon because soon enough he was cuddled into the hallow of Kurt's body.

He made sure Blaine's breath evened out completely before moving. It took a couple of minutes, but he was positive he was holding a heap of sleeping boy in his arms and carefully scooted out of the bed.

He had a job to do after all.

Looking over his shoulder to find Blaine sleeping made something snap inside Kurt's body. It didn't particularly felt like guilt, it was more a yearning feeling of going back to the bed and let Blaine make him that small breakfast he mentioned earlier. He could skip one conquest right? But then he accidently picked up Blaine's polo instead of his own, feeling the expensive fabric and the exquisite stitching on the hems.

_Fuck it_.

He got dressed completely and took an apple from the counter to still his after-sex hunger, all while examining the room on little things he could take before fleeing. There were silver cufflinks on the dinner table that quickly vanished into his pockets, also a bow tie that didn't seem expensive or valuable, but was too cute to leave and some other little trinkets.

Completely ready to go he stood in the hallway, sending a final yearning look into the apartment that was Blaine's. Before he left, however, a shimmer in the corner of his eye distracted him from doing so. Like a magpie he felt attracted to anything shiny and he raced to the object. It was something silvery inside a leather wallet.

His eyes felt like they were popping out of his skull as he flipped the wallet open. It was a badge, and not just an ordinary badge – it was a NYPD New York Police Department badge.

"Fuck," he cussed silently.

He just fucked and robbed a fucking _cop_.


	2. Chapter 2

Despite his kleptomaniac tendencies, Kurt did have a day job. He was not proud to inform people he was the second assistant to one of the editors of Vility Magazine, not even first assistant – but _second_. Which mostly meant he got called 'Thing' and was ordered to get some coffee while the first assistant actually got to attend meetings of New York's biggest gossip magazines.

It had been a week and half since his dramatic conquest with mister police officer Blaine. Even the thought about what happened made him cringe all over again. Still he saw himself throwing all his taken goods back and leave the place in perfect state, his walk of shame even worse without the usual loot.

And _God_ he kept on thinking back on how Blaine must have woken up to an empty bed without even a note with a phone number. It was the first conquest Kurt had felt bad about afterwards, but he decided to grow above it and threw himself into work.

Right before lunch his phone rang. Half distracted by a press release about some celebrity and fantasizing about lunch he picked up. "Vility Magazine, Denise Ansel's office."

_"Good morning, miss – this is officer Wright of New York Police Department, looking for Kurt Hummel?"_

Kurt dropped the phone almost immediately, staring at it with big eyes before awkwardly catching it in the air. "K-Kurt Hummel isn't in at the moment, how may I help you?" _Pull yourself together_, he thought,_you basically lie for a living_. Automatically he raised his voice to keep up the pretence of being a woman.

_"No big deal, miss. Can you inform mister Hummel his wallet has been found?"_

His hand instantly went to his inner pocket of his blazer, finding it completely empty instead of the Gucci wallet he kept.

"Oh, my!" he squeaked. "Um, certainly, where can he collect it?"

The officer rattled off a Precinct number and an address Kurt barely even knew of its whereabouts, but he was sure a cab did. With a high tone he said his goodbyes and hung up with another squeak.

"Were you just impersonating Denise?" Jade, the first assistant, asked behind him and he spun on his chair.

"I need twenty bucks for a cab," he said instead of answering.

Fifteen minutes later he was sacrificing his lunch break to get his wallet back, not even trying to figure out how he even _lost_ his wallet – or maybe it had gotten stolen? _Well fuck me, irony_. No, Kurt worried more about the fact that he as a repetitive thief was going to enter a police station to retrieve his own belongings. He also was kind of freaked out by the fact that this was the second encounter with police-related things in the past two weeks and _God_ he hoped that it wasn't a premonition to get caught in the act. Jail wasn't on his 'places to see'-list. Also he was pretty sure he wouldn't last three minutes in such a facility (he had watched _Orange Is The New Black_, multiple times).

He entered the station, already praying to something that if he would get out of here alive he would never steal again and give up his four-f-system. A model citizen, that's what he would become – he would never hurt a fly! Ever!

"Hi, how may I help you?"

His head snapped up with a loud crack. He had gotten so lost in thought he hadn't noticed he was up next at the desk and stumbled forward.

"I'm here to get my wallet?" _Stop fidgeting_. The lady behind the desk nodded toward the other side of the hall.

"Designated Lost Property, ask further there."

"Thank you," he said sincerely before practically racing to the door that led him into another office. His lunch break was ticking away as he waited for his turn.

"Name?"

"Uh," _don't say a fake name, don't say a fake name_, "Kurt Hummel."

The officer in uniform gave him one glance of judgment before turning around to seek through endless rows of shelves filled with lost and found goods. Kurt felt his hand twitch like it always did when he saw pretty things he could take – _no, model citizen, remember?_

He saw the officer return with his brown wallet, already opening it to get out his driver's license or ID or whatever to check it really belonged to him and he could basically already smell the fresh outside air, starting his brand new life as a good person when a door on the right opened.

Kurt's heart stopped, or it was beating really fast, or both if that was possible because there, carrying a box with files or whatevers, was _Blaine_. He raked his eyes over his entire body, a body he had seen_naked_ nevertheless, and was in shock by the blue uniform fitted perfectly around it.

Blaine noticed him before he was done ogling.

"Luke?" he asked with a frown, followed by a grin, followed by something that made him seem internally pleased. The other officer hadn't heard Blaine and reached the desk. "Oh, David!" The officer looked up. "Go on your break, I'll handle this one."

David didn't seem fazed, leaving almost immediately and Blaine smugly took his place.

"Hi, how may I help you?" Blaine already played with his Gucci wallet _(taken from a hook up back in July, turned out loaded to compensate his lack of stamina_). "That's a nice shade of red on you."

Kurt hadn't even noticed he was blushing but now it was mentioned his cheeks burned even more. Blaine was even more handsome in the fluorescent lights of the office and _fuck_ that uniform.

"I would like my wallet back," Kurt squeaked.

With a lopsided grin Blaine held up his wallet. "And this would be said wallet?"

"I certainly hope so –"

"Well anyone can come and try to collect a vintage Gucci men's wallet, now can't they?" Blaine was either asking for a kiss or a fist to his face because Kurt wanted to do both – a kiss for the fact Blaine knew his labels and a fist for the fact he was turning it into a game. "Nah," he laughed. "I'm just messing with you. Let me check your ID and you're off to break another man's heart by fleeing instead of keeping a promise." _Autch_.

Hurt and feeling guilty about Blaine's comment, Kurt forgot that the name on his ID didn't match the one he gave Blaine and – "Let's see," he flicked out Kurt's ID and went silent. _Fuck_. His eyebrows rose almost comically. "And apparently give them a fake name as well," he added as the-matter-of-factly. "Mister _Kurt_ Hummel, Luke isn't even your second name."

"Look, Blaine –"

Blaine held up his hands, one with his ID and the other with his wallet. "No need, no need, just give me your date of birth and the place."

Chewing on the inside of his cheek he rattled his date of birth, "in Lima, Ohio."

"Good old O to the Hio," Blaine mumbled, putting back his ID and sliding the wallet over the counter. "You know, you actually saved me from a lot of embarrassment by leaving in the morning."

Kurt swallowed loudly. "Did I?"

"Yeah, all I had for breakfast was a banana because someone –" he looked at him pointedly, "ate the apple. Didn't even have any milk or cereal, so really – dodged a bullet." He laughed as if it was an inside joke. Kurt caught on too late that he was a police officer and might have once even dodged bullets, _oh God_.

"Sorry I took your apple," _and almost anything else valuable in your house_.

"I'm not pressing charges." He said it mockingly like he saved Kurt's life, and well, if he did press charges he might be in for a surprise. "I couldn't find my bow tie though, so if you took that I might change my mind."

Kurt's cheeks once again flushed red, burning up at the realization that maybe still in his pocket was the bow tie he wanted to take and didn't put back – _fuck fuck fuck_.

"Kurt?" Blaine said carefully. "Kurt, I'm kidding? I guess you wanted a memorabilia or something. I have like fifty bow ties."

His eyes were so innocent, and he was not far from the truth. He wanted to make up something that would clear everything but that would mean more lies and he wasn't sure if he could handle that. Luckily he was saved by his phone chanting Jade's ringtone.

"Oh, shit, I have to go. Look Blaine, I'm really sorry –" He turned the ringtone off. "About that weekend –"

"Hey, relax." Blaine soothed him by laying his hand on Kurt's that was on the counter. "I mean, you did some pretty shitty stuff by lying and leaving."

"I –"

"But I am a man of honor, and uniform –"

"Wait, what?"

"And I owe you breakfast." Blaine flashed the biggest smile. _What in the world_? "So, tomorrow? Breakfast? On me?" He let go of Kurt's hand to place his elbows on the counter instead, resting his chin on his balled fists and blinking up all prettily with his very long lashes. "I'll forgive you on everything in exchange of numbers and breakfast."

"I – I don't think –"

Blaine jumped up straight away, apologizing out of nowhere. "Oh God, I'm pushing you, I shouldn't push you. I am so sorry. I just thought I would never see you again and there you are walking into my work and well – I took a leap of faith –"

"Blaine, _Blaine_," Kurt bellowed. "Look I have to go back to work. I'm really sorry, alright? I just really have to go." He breathed again at Blaine's nod, ready to turn around and made a run for it, but right before he reached the door something snapped inside of him. "Bagels," he said over his shoulder and walked back.

"What?" Blaine asked, all quiet and hopeful.

"I like bagels. And those chocolate croissant thingies."

"I'm more of a donut man," he said, catching up.

"Way to break the stereotype," Kurt joked to ease the tension.

"I know a place that sells bagels, and donuts." Blaine fidgeted behind the counter, writing something down by the way his arm moved. "It's quite close. Maybe they even have chocolate croissants, but I'm not really sure. Would you – would you like to have breakfast with me there?" He slid the piece of paper toward him and Kurt took it.

"Sure, you do owe me it, I guess."

They settled on a time and Kurt's phone blared again. It wasn't until he was outside again, leaving Blaine to high five all his colleagues he had been whining about Kurt to, that he realized he as a thief was going on a date with a cop.

"Well, fuck me," he muttered, crunching up the paper with the address in his fist.


End file.
